They Were Children
by The Ink Spiller
Summary: War dominates the wizarding world, and Remus Lupin is at the very center of the chaos. This is the story of a young Remus, his role in the Order of the Phoenix, his battle with lycanthropy, and the growing up of his battle-hardened friends.
1. The Morning

**Hello!**

 **Let me offer a hasty appology for my long absence. I hope that in my time of parting, I have become a better writer. Any kind of commentary you can provide me with is much appreciated! It was reading your reviews that inspired me to write something new.**

My mind looks like the inside of an inkwell; dark, dripping, and corroded.

As I lay on an old couch I can do nothing but replay the same violent scene in my head again and again and again. It's the vivid nightmare I've had every day this week. I'm standing over a dead body. Blood is pooled around my bare feet, hot and sticky. I can not see the bodies face but I know who it is. It is Lily. It is James. It is Sirius. It is Peter. It is anyone I care about.

Every time in the dream, I can see nothing of myself except for my hands, which are not my hands at all. They are claws, hooked and silver, like scythes slicing through stalks. They drip sluggishly with the blood of Lily-James-Sirius-Everyman. Even though I know it is not me, it is still me. I am horrified by the joy that surges in the belly of the wolf.

I lay on my couch with my eyes forced open, lungs heaving as I breathe. I try to blink away the dream. But it's still there. It's still there.

Though the horror of my nightmare refuses to fade, it eventually numbs enough for me to gather my sense. I sit up slowly on the old couch. The couch is just about the only thing in my living room. There's a single picture hanging above the empty fireplace; A poorly done watercolor I did in my sixth year of the lake at Hogwarts. It is faded now, but at one point the lake was bright and warm. Now it is a dull gray-blue.

My house is cold. I direct my wand at the empty fireplace and light the rotting log aflame. A small bit of warmth seeps across the room, but I still pull an olive green blanket over my shoulders. There is a deep chill in the November air.

Never having been a morning person, I get off of the couch with a moan and stumble into my sparse kitchen. I set a tea kettle on the stove, and sit at my kitchen table. I run my hands through my hair, which is a tangled mess. I pretend I dont notice the streaks of gray that are becoming more and more prominent by the day. Lily says it is very becoming, and that I play it off well. But what nineteen year old wants to be becoming? I'd rather be dashing or stunning or basically anything but graying.

In seventh year, when my hair first started to show signs of gray, Sirius darkly said "We'll all come out of this war with a few gray hairs."

I do wonder if he's right about that.

The kettle whistles and I poor myself a nice cup of lavender tea, with a heaping spoonful of orange honey. Tea is good for a weary soul. That's what Madam Pomfrey used to say anyways.

As I take my first sip, a light rapping is heard from my dingy window, directly to my right. I push back the thin cream colored curtain, and see a molted brown owl with a chipped beak. It is Harlequin, my owl. More of a messenger pigeon really. Bloody thing looks like its been run over by the Knight bus at least twice.

I open the window and let Harlequin onto the kitchen table. He pecks at my teacup as I untie a small bundle of papers from his leg. First on the stack is today's edition of the Daily Prophet. A big, bold headline reads, FLOURISH AND BLOTS, UP IN FLAMES. Underneath the headline is a moving picture of the cheery shop burning to the ground, the Dark Mark raging overhead. The bookworm inside of me cringes at the loss of hundreds, if not thousands, of books.

I quickly skim the article, and am relieved to see that no one was killed due to the hasty arrival of Aurors. However, the Ministry is already dealing with the Goblins about insurance or whatever it may be, trying to see what can be done about the loss of all of those books.

I am relieved by this headline. That means the worst thing to have happened in the last day is a destructive shop fire. Nobody has died. Nobody has been tortured. No families have been mass murdered. It's a slightly less awful day than the ones prior. I set the Prophet down and go onto the next paper in my stack.

It is a letter hastily sealed into a coffee-stained envelope, a smudge of dirt in the top left corner.

 _Dear Remus,_

 _I thought you'd like to know, the singing lilac's have finally sprouted. You shall have your bouquet just in time!_

 _Best wishes,_

 _Sprout_

I smile a little bit. This is from professor sprout of course. The day I learned of Lily's pregnancy, I sent an owl to Professor Sprout, requesting her to cultivate a singing lilac plant, so I would have the perfect bouquet of flowers to give to her when the baby was born. It's silly, I know, but there's so little I can do, I figured this was a decent way of expressing my joy.

The third paper in my stack is a letter, and Harlequin has it clamped tightly in his dirt colored beak. "Let go of it." I say dully, tugging on the letter. Harlequin flaps his wings, as I pull. "Come on, you feather-brain!" I growl. He lets go.

"Thank you." I say in a dignified manner, smoothing the crumpled edge of the letter.

I open the paper. There is a very small message.

 _Two hours before three hours from the last. Same place, different face._

Instantly, I know what this means. This is a coded call to an Order of The Phoenix meeting. Two hours before three hours from the last is a clever way of saying what time the meeting is. I quickly do some math on the edge of the Prophet. Despite my love for academia, I am a truly dreadful math student and I can't do the simplest of problem without a piece of scrap paper.

"Lets see..The last meeting ended at seven o'clock so three hours later would be ten o'clock, and two hours before that would be eight o'clock. So the meetings at eight o'clock.' I say allowed. Harlequin politely hoots, as if he's listening.

This gives me the rest of the day to prepare anything I need for the meeting, since it wont happen until eight tonight _. Same place, different face_ is a term the order has been using a lot. It means same location, but there are new threats surrounding it and we should therefore be prepared. It's also a way of saying come on foot, as the _different faces_ may catch you if you go by Floo or if you apparate. The last meeting was held at Peter's house. It will be held there again tonight.

I give a weary sigh. "Harlequin, I envy your wings." I say, as I drain the last of my tea. "If I had them, I would fly and fly and never think about war or hooked claws or burning book shops."

Harlequin snaps his beak in response. He's really not the bad of an owl.


	2. One Meeting of Many

The evening is dreary and gray. Exactly the kind of weather you would expect from late November. The clock ticks above my stove, a surprisingly comforting sound to me. I like to think about the minutes slowly slipping away, like grains of sand through my fingers. I've not left the kitchen all day. I sat at my table and wrote.

I don't fancy myself a writer, but I figure that somebody has to keep a running history of what's going on. One day, this war will be over, and the schools will want to teach the next generations about what happened. Since no school would ever hire me, this is the closest I can get to teaching; writing simple notes about the various on goings of the war.

I write down very basic stuff. Headline's from the papers, battle tactics that both sides have used, locations that have been attacked. I keep a running list of those who have died. It is a long list. I thank my lucky stars that my best friend's names are not amongst them.

This is how I occupy myself these days; writing mock histories. I can't get a job. I've applied at every place I can think of. The Hogshead wouldn't even take me as a dishwasher. It is humiliating. Sirius and Lily are outraged.

"You're the cleverest man I know Remus." Sirius said tersely one evening over a round of beers. "It isn't fair!" He growled.

I laughed bitterly. As if I didn't know that.

Lily was angry too. "Remus Lupin, don't you listen to those heartless bastards for one second. You are more than your lycanthropy!" She seethed.

James was quiet about it. He and I have always had a silent understanding of how the rest of the world treats me. Even back in fourth year, we both knew what kind of prejudice was waiting for me. Instead of being outraged and furious, James soothingly placed a hand on my shoulder and sat a muggle newspaper on my lap. "Muggle London has plenty of job openings."

I work as cab driver in the center of London, three times a week. That's barely enough to pay my rent, but I get by. Sirius and Peter and Lily all have tried to give me some money, but I have deafly reclined. I don't need charity. This is how my world works now. James never offered any money; he knew I wouldn't take it. Instead, he offers me the only thing I can stomach, which is a bit of respect. He asks about my job, treats it like it's a quality career. I greatly appreciate it.

Any time when I'm not on the job, I'm at my kitchen table, penning away in a green leather notebook. I've charmed it, so no one can read it except for me. It's a complex little charm that I read about in an old volume that Sirius found in his attic. _Necro Literous,_ an ancient spell. It's basically the equivalent of invisible ink.

Harlequin dozes peacefully on the back of a chair. He has a chipped beak, do to a face-first collision with a closed window. This little chip causes a slight whistle when he sleeps. Another sound I have come to associate with comfort.

"There wasn't much to write about Harley." I say. It has become a regular occurrence for me to carry on full conversations with my owl. I live in a lonely little flat. I'm standing at a washing stand that's in the corner of my sparse kitchen. I'm shaving with an old fashioned knife. It's best to look vaguely composed at a meeting. "I wrote about the book burning, but other than that, there were very few developments. I made a small note on how the Goblin Liaison Department, but that's hardly news."

I look into my shaving mirror as I shave away the last few whiskers. Tired face. Sleepless eyes. Graying hair. I sigh and run my fingers over a particularly long scar that rolls from the edge of my right eye, across my nose, and down the side of my left cheek. I've had it since fifth year, but it's none the less monstrous. Lily says it looks very manly and mysterious, and maybe it does to her, but to me it is nothing but ugly.

"Well," I say to my little owl. "This is as good as I can look."

Harlequin makes a wheezing sound, and I swear that dumb bird is laughing at me. "Oh, because you're so handsome with your chipped beak and haywire feathers." I drawl. Harlequin rustles his wings indignantly.

I pull my tweed coat over my fraying shirt, and pop the collar. I stare at my little mirror, and force a little smile onto my chapped lips. I laugh out right. "Merlin, I'm a sorry sight." Harlequin, the ungrateful git, hoots in agreement.

The clock above my stove chimes. Half past seven. I'd best be going.

"I'll be back." I say allowed, stuffing my wand and my notebook into an old brown leather satchel. "There's a war going on, you know? I've got a tight schedule."

I apparate three blocks over from Peter's house. He lives in a quaint wizarding suburb on the edge of the countryside. White picket fence, cottage shutters – think Hansel and Gretel meets the late 70's.

I flinch at how loud the snap of my apparition is. I'm glad I decided to stay three blocks over, instead of two. Don't want the Death Eaters to hear. And trust, me they'll hear you. They have ears everywhere.

I walk briskly on the sidewalk, head towards the ground. One of the many disadvantages of being a werewolf is, chances are, your skin is heavily scared. This can make it difficult to blend in. Fortunately, the streets are deserted and there is nothing but the soft glow of a streetlamp, casting long shadows onto the road.

As I come up on Peter's street, I see her. She's a middle aged woman with black, stringy hair, but she's got the nauseating air of a blood purist. You know what I'm talking about? She holds her head in a way so that she's always looking down on you, and she radiates superiority.

I swiftly pull out my wand and whisper a speel beneath my breath. I feel a cool, trickling sensation that spreads over my whole body, and I am invisble. At least, to this inexcperienced Death Eater I am. Any weather vetran would be able to recognize the odd glimmer of my camoflauge. But not this woman.

I practically sprint around Pete's house. It's a general rule of thumb to always enter from the back door. I knock three times, and I hear his squeaky voice on the other side.

'Who is it?" He asks, the nervousness evident in his shaky whisper.

"It's Remus." I whisper back.

"Tell me something only Remus would know." Peter says.

"In our second year, you got your foot stuck in the toilet in our dormitory, and you cried for half an hour when James said the only way to save you was to cut your foot out."

I hear him fumble with the lock. He reaches a hand blindly into the dark, nabs my jacket sleeve, and yanks me inside.

"Blimey Moony!" He grumbled as I vanish my camouflage charm. "Must you always remind me of my cripplingly embarrassing moments?" He whines.

I smile softly. "All of your moments are embarrassing moments, Wormtail."

"Remus!" I am tackled from behind, and the voice I clearly recognize as James. "It's been an age! How are you?" He asks seriously, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking into my face.

I try to avoid his eyes. I don't want him looking at me. James is a much more observant person than anybody gives him credit for. He was the one to figure out my secret, all those years ago.

"I'm fine." I mumble, trying to slip away. His hold on my shoulders strengthens and he shakes me a little.

I raise my head and we lock eyes. In a second, I can see him evaluate my entire appearance. He's noticing the sunken eyes, and the pasty skin, and the graying hairs. He's noticing the hungry look on my face, I can just tell.

"Come on into the kitchen. Lily made soup, it's really good." He says, letting go of my shoulders. As usual, he doesn't press me or question me. He sees what he needs to see, and then he moves on.

I walk into the kitchen, and am greeted by several other order members. None of them are smiling. Most of them are deep in conversation, bent over a map. At the head of the table, Sirius is pointing at specific locations, giving instructions. He looks up briefly, sees me, and nods grimly. War has changed this man. He's still a wild thing, but he has heavy shoulders, stressed under the responsibilities that this war has brought him. He's a Black. He knows some things that none of the rest of us could ever know.

A small warms hand lands on my arm. I turn and look to see Lily, bright eyes and looking at me. Her eyes, a safe emerald green that have always glittered with whatever emotion she is feeling, smile silently at me. Underneath her long floral dress and tan sweater, I can see the very beginnings of a baby bump. I offer her a rare smile. She hands me a bowl of potato soup, and I thank her. My mouth waters as the warm scent rises up and hits my nose. I've not eaten in a couple of days. I try not to wolf it down, but it's gone in a minute.

"Hungry, are you?" Lily teases as I walk over to the kitchen counter.

"Ravenous." I reply, helping myself to a second bowl. Lily is leaning on the counter, staring at a small checklist.

"Whatcha got there?" I ask, around a mouthful.

"Just a list of everyone who's supposed to be here." She says with a small frown. "We're missing several."

I leave her, and walk to the table. Frank Longbottom steps over to make room for me around the map. Sirius is mid-sentence.

"-best if we place a couple of ours near the Leaky Cauldron, there's rumor of an increasing number of suspected death eaters passing through. And Alice, I'm going to make it your specific duty to investigate the bridge burning in Surrey. The ministry report said that it was just a bunch of muggle kids causing trouble, but I know an _Infernflama_ hex when I see one. It was definitely the work of wizards; we just need to know if the bridge was a target or was merely a destructive act." Sirius points to a small blue X on the parchment map, and Alice nods.

"Do you want me to go solo?" She asks. She's cut her blonde hair short. I quiet like it.

Sirius runs a hand through his long hair. He hasn't showered in a few days; I know this because I can physically _smell_ him. Werewolf sense or not, he needs to bathe.

"Ask Lily if she wants to go. She's anxious to get out of the house. James won't let her out of his sight because of the baby, but the woman's not an invalid. "He grumbles.

"Alright, we can handle that." Alice says.

"That about does it then, any questions?" Sirius asks, rolling up the map. There are no questions. "In that case, go get yourselves something to eat. Have you tried Lily's potato soup? It is exquisite."

The small bunch of people surrounding the table dissipate and trail off into the kitchen. I stay there.

"You don't look so great Moony." Sirius says, sitting down at the table.

"I could say the same to you, Padfoot." I sit across from him.

Sirius sighs heavily. "It's been a busy few days."

Lily walks over, sets a few butter beers down in front of us, ruffles my hair with her hand, and walks back to the kitchen. Like James, she's good at knowing when a conversation is private.

Sirius takes a long swig of his butterbeer. "After the ministry left Flourish and Blotts this morning, Fabian Prewett and I went to look through the ashes and to inspect the scene. Didn't find anything, but it was tedious work. I can taste the ash in my lungs."

The ash he's tasting is much more likely from the cigarettes he's started smoking. He's been blowing through almost two packs a day sense the war got worse. In seventh year, he'd smoke a few just to get the girls. Now it's a coping mechanism.

"You should've sent me an owl." I say. "I was at home all morning. I could've helped."

Sirius is quite for just a second to long. "I should have. I'll try to remember next time."

We quietly finish our butterbeers. James walks over and sits with us. The war has mellowed him out a fair bit. He's no longer the rash moron he was in school, but rather, a responsible young man who has dutifully picked up the gauntlet of war and fatherhood.

"What is this I hear about you sending Lily out?" James demands.

Sirius rolls his eyes dramatically. "You can't keep her locked away all the time Prongs, she'll go mad. Besides, she's been begging to get away from the kitchen."

"Look at me." James orders. Sirius glares at him. "We keep Lily safe. Forget the damn war for ten seconds. We keep Lily safe. That's all I want."

"You can't keep her safe though, James." Sirius says bluntly. "You can't keep anyone safe. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on!" His voice is raising.

"Sirius!" I scold, surprised.

James eyes smolder behind his glasses. "To hell I can!"

"Keeping her in the house won't keep her any safer than it would keep you or me!" Sirius snarls. "You know that."

'You don't understand!" James spits. "Just because you've not got anyone to protect doesn't mean you can disregard others responsibility!"

Sirius's head snaps up so fast that I'm sure he's broken his neck. "No one to protect?" He whispers, voice dangerously thing. " _No one to protect?"_

I can see it all over James face, he knows he's spoken out of term.

"What the _hell_ do you think I've been doing Prongs? All I do is try to protect people, and you have the _nerve_ to suggest –"

"Sirius!" James yells. "Please, understand." He is pleading. Sirius looks mildly alarmed.

"You guys," James whispers, leaning in. Sirius and I lean in too. "Please, I am so afraid. I've been on edge for months. Not just about Lily, but my friends and the baby and Padfoot, I'm sorry I just don't know what to do."

Sirius looks abashed for his anger. "Prongs, none of us know. But that's alright. We're all going to take care of each other."

James rubs his eyes under his glasses. He looks like a much older man.

I stare at my two friends. "Nobody's safe." I say. Sirius glares at me, and opens his mouth to speak, but I plow on. "Nobody is safe, but we are all brave. We'll turn out alright."

We don't talk anymore. James does not raise his head from his hands, and eventually, Sirius falls asleep on James shoulder.

I rise slowly from the table and head for the door.

"Remus?" A sweet voice says quietly. It's Lily. She's standing in the kitchen doorway. "Won't you stay the night? Peter set the sofa for you."

I stare at her, tiny belly protruding from her flowery dress and I feel my eyes smart. I swallow quickly. "Thank you, but I need to get home."

She stares at me with concern evident in her lovely eyes and I can feel my throat constricting as I cast a camouflage charm and leave the house.

Nobody is safe. But here's the real secret, most of us aren't brave anymore either.


	3. The First Girl I Ever Kissed

I don't remember falling asleep after I got home from the meeting, but I must have because I woke up with a scream.

It was the same dream, the one where I am standing over a body with bloody hands. But the body was not faceless this time. It was definitely Lily. I would recognize those eyes anywhere.

The thing about Lily is she is so indescribably kind. I have never met a kinder person in my entire life, except maybe my own mum. In fifth year, after the horrible moon where Sirius tried to lead Snape into the Shrieking Shack, Lily stood by my side and dumped the rest of my friends like they were nothing. I didn't talk to them for two solid months, but Lily, despite not knowing what had happened, stood by me and befriended me.

We don't talk about it, but Lily was my first kiss. This was also in fifth year, during our time of close friendship. We were in Charms class, working on small group projects. James, Lily, and I were in the same group. James was flirting with her, which was not an unusual occurrence, but Lily just flew off the handle. "I detest you and your friends. Remus wont tell me what you did to him, but I know it was something vile." James opened his mouth, looking surprised, but before he could say anything, Lily slammed her text book onto the desk and grabbed the front of my sweater and pulled me into a kiss.

To say that I was surprised was an understatement. For a minute, I was frozen and my eyes were bulging from my head, but then I sort of melted into her kiss. She pulled away a second later, and stormed out of the classroom, leaving a very startled James and I behind. The rest of that story is best saved for another day. The point is Lily is, in many senses, my best friend. Even more so than Peter and Padfoot and Prongs.

In third year, Lily and I stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, while the others went home to their families. I remember, we had such a great Christmas morning. We woke up to a foot of fresh, powdery snow. We pulled on our boots and ran outside in our pajamas and built snowmen. She charmed her snowman to wave its little twig arms when people walked by.

I have a muggle photo album on my mantle that is full of pictures of my friends and I. One of my very favorite pictures is of Lily and I on her wedding day. She's trying to teach me how to dance. We are both laughing. Our faces are forever frozen in a laugh. Her eyes are so bright, and I look so young.

I go to my mantle and open the photo album, and pull that picture out of its slot. "Harlequin," I yell into the kitchen. My owl sleepily blinks his amber eyes open. "Do me a favor, fly this over to the Potters. It's for Lily." I say, tying it around his leg. I write a brief note - _Lily, focus on the bright hours -_ and send my owl off to make his delivery.

You see, it's very important to remember the bright hours. There are so few of them in this dreary, washed out world. You must remember the bright hours for the pin-pricks of happiness that they are. If you don't, you'll never make it out of this death-trap alive.

 **Please let me know what you think! Should I write more? I've got plenty of ideas.**


	4. They Came Wearing Hoods

In the soft hours between night and morning, the tree outside my front window casts a peculiar lunar shadow on my floor. The shadow reminds me of a flame; It is all smooth, unexpected curves and when the wind blows and the branches shake, the shadow flames seem to dance.

I have spent many a sleepless hour watching the shadow flames. Sleep is such a challenge these days. You can be dead on your feet, but your mind still won't let you sleep. Back in school, I slept constantly. Not often in class, the way James and Sirius did, but anywhere else. In the great hall during lunch, in the library, in the common room, even on the bleachers during one of James quiditch practices. Sense I've always been the "mature" one in my group of friends, people assume that I was always the first to rise in the morning, and the last to put away my books and go to bed at night. That's entirely untrue. I practically had to be forcibly removed from my four-poster in the morning, and was quite infamous for falling asleep the second the sun set. Being a dedicated student is tiring enough without the added fatigue of being a werewolf.

But these days, I am lucky to sleep five hours at a time. I work three nights of the week anyways, as a cab driver. The other nights are occupied by business with the order. Sometimes its meetings or planning, other times its missions and guard duty. Even if I'm not working, my thoughts are consumed by worry. Worry for my friends, worry for myself. War is a thief; it has a funny way of robbing you of your security.

Today I lay on the couch in my front room and stare at the shadow as it dances across the floor. Though I have a nice little bedroom upstairs, I often choose to sleep on the couch instead. I don't really know why. Maybe because it's closer to the fire place?

Judging by the feel of things, it can't be any later than five in the morning. Yet here I am, wide awake. I decide to get up and meander to my kitchen. I've got guard duty at eight. Might as well get up and going,

In the kitchen, I get a percolator going. Tea is good for easing the mind, but coffee is best for washing the sleep from your eyes. I take my coffee with cream, and four sugars. I've got quite the sweet tooth.

Harlequin is preening his feathers while he sits in his custamry spot; the back of the kitchen chair opposite mine. We share a compainiable silence and enjoy the hush of an easy morning. The coffee pot bubbles. I fry myself a few corn dodgers in a pan to fill my empty belly. I haven't eaten sense the last meeting, two days ago, so the dodgers smell extra delicious this morning.

By six o'clock, I'm sitting at my table and enjoying my breakfast.

"Harlequin, it must be so dreadful to be an owl sometimes. For example, you owls will never know the pure amazingness that is drinking a freshly brewed cup of coffee. I pity you and your dismal existence." I say amiably. Harlequin, of course, doesn't respond. Our conversations tend to be a little one sided.

As I sip my coffee, I lazily flip through an edition of Witch Broomstick. The sun peaks from under the horizon line, and a refreshingly orange ray of light slices through the fading night, replacing the chilling gray with a warm, glowing peach. There is a fine mist floating just above the grass, and it sparkles when the light hits it. It is a pleasant dawn

"Looks like a lovely day to me." I say aloud to my owl, who deafly ignores my insist chatter. "You know; I've never liked winter. It's cold and slushy and generally unpleasant. Summer time – now that is a season. It's warm and the nights are shorter and there are crickets chirping. Tease me as you please, but there is nothing as cheerful as a cricket. I wonder – do you eat crickets, Harlequin?"

Harlequin looks at me, and turns his head slightly, excited by the word "eat." Like Padfoot, Harlequin will do anything for food. I snort, and finish the rest of my breakfast.

The clock above my cast iron stove chimes, and it's time for me to go. I slip into my old tweed coat, and run my fingers through my hair. It's getting long, I'll need a haircut soon. I sort of like it longer, though.

Walking out of my house is like stepping into a blast cooler. The air is terribly cold, despite the inviting sun. I push my hands into my pockets, to protect my fingers from the nipping cold. When I get to my street corner, I apparate.

Apparating is an unpleasant sensation. Imagine being squeezed from a tube of toothpaste. Not a comfortable feeling.

I am in a small wizarding village named Hampton. I'm to be on guard duty from eight to ten. What am I guarding, you may ask? Us order members spend a lot of time guarding things. Sometimes we escort important political figures from place to place, but most of the time, we guard families who we presume are in immediate danger of death eaters. Most of the time, we guard wizarding families, though on the odd occasion, we are assigned to muggle families. Tonight, I'm guarding a family called the Stewarts.

They are unaware of our presence.

I am joined by Alastor Moody. Moody is an intimidating man at the best of times. He has a chisled, determined face and stingry hair. He wears a trench coat with many pockets, and he's got a mean look in his eyes. He's defense against the dark arts genious. That man is experienced. It is a privledge to work with him. As terrible as this war has been, I have learned many lessons. Moody is responsible for many of them.

"Remus." Moody says by means of a greeting as I approach a lamp post.

"Alastor." I reply. I shiver as a breeze blows.

"The Stewarts recently passed some information about the enemy on to the Ministry of Magic. The damn fools didn't think to send in the tips anonymously." Moody says. He has his wand at the ready, but he usually does. "If we don't see a siege of angry death eaters tonight, then we will before this wars ends. You don't just get away with something like that unscathed."

I nod in understanding and we stand in scilence. Moody is staring at my, and I squirm uncomfortably. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"You don't look well." Moody says bluntly.

"The full moon is three days away." I say by means of explanation.

Moody grunts. Like most wizards, he is weary of those affected by lycanthropy, and rightfully so. But unlike most wizards, he looks beyond my condition and values my strengths.

The day rolls by without event. Moody spends the day leaning against the lamp post, and I tend to my history journal, jotting down the day's insignificant headlines. Dusk starts to fall. The sky is tinged with violet.

Just as it becomes dark and the street lamps flicker on, there is a resounding pop, and three hooded figures stand a mere twenty feet from us. Instantly, all of our wands are out. The hooded man across from be shoots an unnamed spell directly at me, and I roll out of the way. Moody gives a vicious battle cry and blasts a powerful wave of magic at the other two death eaters who are rushing towards him. They block the spell.

I quickly get to my feet and pivot to face my attacker. With a delicate flick of my wand, I send a glowing ray of silver at my foe, and he shrieks as the heat of my attack burns his skin, he fires another spell at me, and I lunge behind the garden wall. There are two more pops; the Stewarts have apparated from their homes. Cowards.

I am pressed against the garden wall, trying to catch my breath. I can hear Moody dueling with the death eaters.

"What have we here?" A snide voice whispers from my left. I whip my wand to attack the man, but he disarms me before I can cast a spell.

The death eater is hooded, and I can't see his face beneath the shadow his cloak casts. I am almost positive, however, that the nasally voice belongs to my old classmate, Luscious Malfoy.

"Hiding, are we?" He hisses. "Not to worry, I'm not going to kill you. You can come with me, and tell us all we need to know." He is pressing the tip of his wand directly into my forehead.

I try to keep a level voice. "Certainly you death eaters can't be that numb-skulled? I wouldn't breathe a word of anything you want to know."

Could-Be-Malfoy laughs a sinister laugh, as if what I've said really tickled his funny bone. "It's precious how you think we will settle for your silence." He pushes his wand harder into my forehead, and I try not to flinch. "We've got ways of making people talk."

I hear Moody yell as a spell hits him. Judging by the storm of cuss words that follows said hit, I deduce that he is not severely injured. I here him scream some spell, and one the death eaters hits the pavement. The other apparates.

The man holding me against the wall looks up alarmed. He grabs my forearm and starts to apparate, but Just before he can do so, Moody blows up the garden wall.

I am sent rocketing through the air, slamming into a tree trunk. Bricks rain down and strike my skin. The death eater has been thrown onto the road. He is scrambling to his feet, Moody firing hexes every which way.

I am stunned by the impact of the blast, and my ears are ringing, but I manage to stand and wobble as quickly as I can toward Moody. He is face to face with Malfoy, there wands at each other's throats. Both are frozen. One wrong move, and either one could be killed.

"Surrender your weapons, and you'll save yourself a lot of misery." Moody whispers frighteningly. "Every wizard in a ten-mile radius has heard the ruckus you've caused. Order members will be here in minutes to turn you over to the ministry and cart you off to Azkaban.

The death eater slowly raises his hands in surrender. We take a step back. He gently begins to lower his wands to the ground, but at the last second he fires an imobulus charm at Moody so quickly that the auror can't respond. I am wandless and I brace myself for whatever is coming for me, but Malfoy being the coward I know he is, casts a spell straight at my chest and vanishes into thin air, apparating away from the scene.

The spell hits me squarely in the chest and I am overpowered by the pure agony of the curse. Time seems to slow to an unbearable crawl as I crash to the ground. I clutch at my chest and scream. My blood is on fire; I can literally feel it boiling in my veins. Moody stands helpless next to me, frozen by the imobulus charm.

I convulse on the ground, and shriek. The pain is worse than anything I've experienced before; even my transformations.

The hurt is overwhelming me, as the minute's tick by. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four. Just as the edges of my vision begin to black, order members apparate onto the scene. I scream so hard that my vocal chords feel like they might rupture.

"REMUS!" I hear Sirius scream as he runs over to me. He is sweating, and his eyes are frantic. I clutch his jacket as he bends over me. With shaking hands, he pushes my hair from my face and struggles to keep me lying down. "Somebody, help!" He yells. "He's been cursed!"

There is a rush of running members, and I slip into unconsciousness, the burning blood in my veins too much to bare.


	5. Blister Veins

I wake up two days later in a soft bed dressed with crisp, white sheets. I don't have the strength to open my eyes. Every inch of my body stings.

This is not my house. I wonder where I am? I force my eyelids open, so I can look around the room. It is a simple room, with lacey curtains over the window, and hardwood floors. This is the guest bedroom at Lily and James house.

Just as I come to this conclusion, the door to the room opens and in walks Lily, carrying a glass of water. She nearly drops it. "Remus!" She gasps. "Thank heavens, you're awake." She says. She steps out the door and I hear her yell, "He's awake!"

There's an explosion of thundering steps, and James and Sirius burst into the room. "Moony!" James says, rushing to my bedside. Sirius is right on his heels.

I stare at them weakly. "Wh-what…Happened?" I whisper. My throat is unbelievably sore.

"You were cursed, mate." Sirius says. "That damn death eater struck you with a blood boiling curse."

"A what?" I wheeze. I've never heard of this.

"A blood boiling curse." Sirius says, sitting himself at the foot of my bed. "It's pretty self-explanatory. Makes your blood heat up and boil in your veins. Honestly, I don't know how you're still alive. That kind of pain should've killed you."

"Werewolf…perks…"I say weekly. They laugh, and I cough. Lily helps me sit up and drink some water. She rubs my shoulder with her hand. "What…hap..when I…blacked out?" I breathe.

Sirius looks away from me and picks at a spot on the bed spread. "We didn't know what curse you'd been hit with, so we frantically stared experimenting with fixes. The magic that was used on you, it was dark stuff. Eventually, we had the genius idea to look away from you and unfreeze Moody. He knew what had happened. He stopped the curse, but it had been in you so long, we didn't know if you were still alive."

"I read up on the curse when I heard the news." Lily added. "In the middle ages, some wizards petitioned to make it an Unforgivable curse, but that idea was rejected because of the medical advantages it can have. In brief spells, it can be used to cauterize wounds." She explains.

"We took you to the hospital, but they wouldn't take you." Sirius growled angrily.

"Apparently it was too dangerous to do medical work on a werewolf when it was this close to the full moon." James spat bitterly. "They said it might trigger an 'violent reaction.'"

"We argued with the staff for a while, but it became apparent that they were not going to be helpful." Sirius explained. "We brought you to James house and turned the kitchen into a makeshift operating room. Between James, Lily, Moody, and I we were able to fix you up. The curse was gone, but you wouldn't believe the fever you were running. And the burns." He looks at my arms quickly, and then looks away.

I look at my arms to see what it was he was staring at. There a violently red burns running the length of my body, and they are in the exact shape of my veins. I am repulsed, to say the least. It looks like red spider webs, wrapping around my flesh.

"They should go away in a few weeks." Lily says gently.

I nod. I am so disheartened by the burns. My body, already laced with ugly scars, has become more monstrous. I'm already a monster, but now I look the part.

"The Stewarts?" I ask.

"Dead. All of them." James says. I close my eyes shut and squeeze my hands into fists.

"You did your best Moony." Sirius says consolingly. "But if Voldemort wants you dead, then he wont stop hunting you."

"I know." I mutter.

"I hate to pile on to your troubles Moony, but we've got a serious problem at hand.' James says a moment later. "The full moon is tonight, and you're in rough shape as it is."

"I'll be fine." I say quickly. I don't like burdening my friends with my condition.

"Regardless, chances are, tonight will be tougher than most." James says. "Sirius and I will both be with you tonight."

"But, you've got missions to work on." I protest indignantly.

"There may be a war going on, but we still have priories. Tonight, you need us much more than the order does." James says firmly.

Sirius chuckles. "I'm just glad you're awake. We've never had to deal with your furry little problem when you're in a coma."

I laugh appreciatively. Count on Sirius to lighten to mood. But I can hear the worry in his voice. All of my friends are thinking exactly what I am thinking; how will we make it through this moon? I don't feel like I have the strength to breathe, let alone the strength to transform and fight back the wolf. My stomach churns as I think about all the dreams I've had with my dripping claws.

It is stupid, how even in a time of battle and destruction and crippling curses, the Wolf is still dominate.


	6. Fire Moon

I like Godric's Hollow. It is a beautiful little wizarding village, full of rustic cottages. I still find it difficult to envision James and Lily in such a domestic setting. James has always had such an incurable desperation for adventure. Trouble follows him around in an almost comical way. And Lily can be such a foul-tempered hot head, it's amazing to see her try and smooth out her rough edges. I can see it in the way she carries herself, she's trying to play the part of a mother. I don't think she understands that she does not have to become a completely different person to be a good mother.

I have not left the guest bedroom since I woke up. Even the slightest movements send a horrific burning sensation darting through my body. The vein imprints are a violent red on my pale skin. They are blistered and several areas are bleeding sluggishly. I can honestly say that I don't know how I will make it through tonight.

I can already feel the familiar symptoms of the full moon. I feel feverish, faint almost. My bones feel like they are made of rock. I am irritable and nauseated and fatigued. In addition, there is an almost indescribable pull in my chest. I've never been able to properly explain it. It feels like a physical drive to get out of town, to run somewhere far away. I do not like it. I do not like it.

The peeling white door of the guest bedroom opens with a slight creak. Sirius pops his head in quietly. His hair, which is getting much too long, hangs around his face. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"Yup." I say shortly.

He walks all the way into the room, and leans against my bed rail. "We've set the basement up, its pretty damn secure. We figured you really aren't in any condition to apparate to the Shrieking Shack."

"I agree." I rasp weakly.

Sirius stands quietly at the foot of the bed. He's staring at his boots, which are crusty with dried mud. I can tell by the way he is chewing at his bottom lip, grey eyes downcast, that he's trying to say something. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like a goldfish, but no words come out.

"Padfoot," I wheeze. "Tonight will be fine."

He nods slowly, mouth set in a grim line. "Okay." He says thinly. He gently lets his hand rest on my foot for a minute, and then exits the room quickly.

XXXX

The gray sky begins to darken, and the invisible pull in my chest becomes almost irresistible. The night is coming, and the Wolf is drowsily rising from an unrestful slumber.

I am seated at the Potter's kitchen table. Lily gently helped me to the kitchen, and placed a steaming bowl of pea soup in front of me. I'm not hungry. I never am on full moon nights, but my friends always try to get me to eat something. The soup, while it smells delicious, makes my stomach preform acrobatics.

Unlike myself, James can't _stop_ eating when he is upset or unwell. We've only been at the table for about ten minutes, and he's already eaten two large bowls of soup, and six dinner rolls. Sirius stares at him with a disgusted expression. "Merlin, don't forget to breathe every once in a while." He snorts.

"Ucksh Uvf." James mumbles over a mouthful of food. I can't understand what he's saying, but I'd bet anything that he was cursing.

They finish dinner and clear the table, and I do not move. I lay my head in my arms. It is nice to be comfortable enough around my friends that I don't force myself to be alert. They not only tolerate my weakness, but encourage it. "Take it easy, Moony." James would always say when I pushed myself to hard.

I suddenly feel strong hands grabbing each of my arms. My blistering veins cry in protest, and I inhale sharply. "Sorry, mate." I hear Sirius say from my right. James and Sirus lead me to the basement, and help me down the steps.

"It'll be over before you know it." Lily says as she shuts the basement door. I hear multiple locks click.

The boys set me carefully against the cold stone wall. I somehow manage to slip out of my shirt and my jeans, so that I sit shivering in nothing but my boxers. I run a hand over the angry red blister veins that crawl across my chest. The pull in my chest makes my ribs feel like they are going to break through my skin.

James and Sirius sit directly across from me. Usually, we have small conversations until the moon rises, but tonight it is painfully quiet.

"It will be fine." I say, offering a pathetic smile. Sirius is biting his lip again. James is cleaning his glasses on the edge of his shirt, something he's always done when he's worried.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall, the cold stone a welcome relief on my steaming skin. James pats my kneecap bracingly. The moon makes a complete rise; I can feel it.

My spine goes rigid and my eyes fly open. My insides begin to simmer like eggs in a frying pan, I can feel the positioning of my ribs and my pelvic bones shifting, I can feel my shoulders shooting backwards, my elbows caving inwards. My teeth forcing their way up through my gums.

My slowly fading consciousness registers the hasty transformation of my friends. A noble stag and a burly black dog stand in their places. Padfoot locks his eyes with mine. I can feel my pupils dilating, I am hyper aware of every minuscule change ripping through my being. I can no fathom the intensity of the pain. Hair pierces through every inch of my flesh. My transformation, always painful, is magnified dramatically by the burning and scaring of my blister veins. Tonight, I feel the moon as if it is fire.

The desperate tugging in my chest bursts free, and I, Remus Lupin, am gone.

 _ **Is anyone reading this? Please leave a review, I'd really like to know what you think.**_


	7. Bigger Than The Wolf

"…Go knock on the door, let Lily know it's over." A far away face calls.

Lily? Lily who? What door? What's going on? My eyelids flutter open briefly, but I see nothing but hazy outlines of discombobulated figures.

Blood. I can smell it. I can taste it. I can feel it on my skin. I hear a drop smash against the floor, and with dread, I realize where I am and what has happened. I am in the Potters basement. I just returned from the clutches of the Wolf.

I open my mouth, but nothing but a weak groan escapes. "Hush," The far away voice says. _James._ I think to myself. "Try not to move, Moony."

My vision, though hindered, focuses in on a white protrusion bursting from my chest. _What is that?_ I wonder frantically. I try to ask, but my voice is broken, consumed by the rage of the howls I must have sounded last night.

I fall into an uncomfortable obliviousness.

XXXXX

"I sent an owl to Poppy." A girl's voice says, shrill with poorly suppressed nerves. "I told her that we patched him up as well as we could, but that we needed help."

"I haven't seen him this bad for _years._ " A deeper voice says.

"Didn't you do anything to help him?" The girl asks.

"Of course!" The man replies indignantly. "You don't understand; the Wolf was beyond our reach last night. Sirius, tell her."

"It took all that we had to keep him from mauling himself to death." A tired voice says.

I open my eyes and moan.

"Remus!" Three voices yell at once. In an instant, I am surrounded by familiar faces. Lily is bent over me, her auburn hair dangling in front of my face. Her eyes are sleepless and red rimmed; she's been crying. James is next to her, supporting a horribly black eye, and across from him is Sirius, who has a fat lip, crusting over with partially dried blood.

I stare at them each in turn, uncomprehendingly. I know them. I am comforted by their presence. But I am far, far away. I am in the place between reality and oblivion. It is the place your brain falls into when you a crushingly sad, and it is the place your body falls into when you are broken and mangled. I am far away, in a world ablaze with fever and hurt. An unearthly ache rages on my chest, and the blisters coating my body scream.

I can see their lips moving, but I cannot hear them. I am far away. I am so far away.

XXXXX

The next time that I wake up, I am in my own home. I am on the drab sofa in my living room. Needless to say, I am alarmed. I sit up abruptly and the entire universe spins.

"Easy there," an even voice says from across the room. _Sirius,_ I think to myself. "You've been to hell and back, my friend."

"How long has it been?" I rasp, holding a hand to my forehead as I slowly lower myself back onto a pillow.

"Six days." Sirius says. He's sitting on the coffee table, leaning forward.

"Are we in my house?" I ask, disoriented.

I can hear the smirk on Sirius lips as he replies. "Yeah, we are. Brought you hear yesterday afternoon. James and Lily are hosting the meeting tonight, we thought you'd be less interrupted here. Hope you don't mind; I sort of made myself at home while you were zonked out."

"I don't mind," I say honestly. "not at all."

"Your owl is damn annoying." He grumbles. "It snores. What kind of owl snores?"

"You snore but we somehow managed to share a dormitory with you for seven years." I counter.

"If anyone snored, it was definitely Peter. A gentleman like myself does not snore."

"Is that so? Than what were those awful vocalizations?" I tease.

"My mating call." He laughs.

I laugh too, but then hastily grab my ribs. Sirius reaches an arm forward quickly.

"Easy there mate, you took quite the beating." He says, offering me an icepack.

"What all happened? Was it that bad?" I ask. It's been quite a few years since I've had a really bad moon. Ever since my friends became animagi, the Wolf has been more docile, so to speak.

Sirius was shaking his head. He chewed on his bottom lip, and sighed loudly. "The wolf was pissed off. We talked about it, and we think that between the physical pain from the blisters and the emotional trauma of that whole affair just left you very vulnerable. The second you were done transforming; the Wolf just went _wild_."

Shame bubbles up in my throat, and I start to apologize, but Sirius cuts me off.

"You were all over the place, clawing at the walls and the stairs and the doors. Prongs and I kept trying to distract you. You weren't quiet as friendly to good old Padfoot and Prongs last night." Sirius said, gesturing to the remnants of a busted lip. "When the Wolf realized there was no exiting the basement, he turned on himself. You did quite a bit of damage on yourself. Prongs and thought you were going to maul yourself to death. You nearly pulled your own _ribcage_ out of your chest, mate."

I shudder, foggily remembering the white protrusion I had seen after my transformation. That must have been a rib sticking straight out of my chest. I clutch at the lump of bandages, and digest the displeasure that's crawling up my throat.

Sirius lays down on the coffee table dramatically, arms and legs dangling over the sides. "Your one lucky son of a gun, you know that? That's two times in a week that you should have died."

I chuckle a little bit. "Please, if anyone is lucky, it is unquestionably you. Remember when you convinced the entire common room that you were terminally ill, and would need someone to keep up on your studies? They believed you for a month! Now that was lucky."

Sirius laughs, dog like. "It's a muggle disease," he said in a mock squeaky voice. "The healers reckon I've only got a few more months to live."

We laugh fondly over the memory. "McGonagall was livid when she heard." I snort between laughs.

"Merlin, I was genuinely concerned that she would expel me." Sirius says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

My laughter breaks off into a painful bought of coughing, and I clutch at my throbbing ribs. Sirius is up off of the table in an instant, right at my side.

"Are you alright, Moony?" He says, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I flap my hand at him in annoyance. "Bugger off, I'm fine." I cough. Honestly, someone as reckless and forward as Sirius Orion Black really shouldn't behave in such a maternally concerned manner; it throws you for a loop every time.

"How come Lily and Prongs aren't gather around my deathbed?" I ask lightly, sipping from a glass of water to soothe my shredded throat.

"Lily is back at Godric's Hollow, prepping the house for the meeting tonight. James is patrolling somewhere or another, I don't know where." Sirius said, all business.

"Have I missed any big developments?" I ask, my heart fluttering.

"There was a massive muggle slaughtering two days ago." Sirius says darkly. "Death eaters killed eleven innocent muggles. And most of them were children, too. They came down on a playground about fifty miles eat from here."

I clench my fists, and turn my head away. If I had been awake, I could have helped.

"It was awful. The ministry had one hell of a time trying to invent a muggle worthy excuse for what had killed all of those people." Sirius said, shaking his head.

"What happened to the Death Eaters?" I question. Part of me doesn't want to hear about this tragedy and the bloodshed, but the other part of me can't resist asking.

"They were gone before anyone got there, ministry or the Order. Nothing was left but eleven corpses, and in the mulch beneath the swing set, one of them had blasted the dark mark."

"This was an arrogance killing." I growl, pushing my hair from my face. "They're beginning to look unstoppable. This attack was definitely meant to drive that point home."

"The general wizarding commonwealth definitely responded in fear. You should've seen Diagon Alley yesterday; all the shops were closed; the streets were nearly empty. But," said Sirius, a twinkle in his eye. "A few more rebellious souls took the attack a bit to personally. We've had three more people join the order since then."

"Oh! Who?" I ask. With a murderer as evil and powerful as Voldemort, it can be difficult to find people willing to risk their lives and form a resistance.

"Don't know yet, but I think they'll be at the meeting tonight." Sirius answered. His eyes suddenly widened. "Bollocks! The meeting!" he rocketed to his feet. "Will you be alright on your own for a while? I told Lily I would be over to help her bring up some tables, don't want her straining herself. You know, because of the baby."

"Give me a moment, I'll come with you." I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the sofa.

"Oh, no you don't." Sirius says firmly. "You're staying here."

"Padfoot, I'm fi-"

"No! Moony, we are not having this conversation. Stay here, get well. Then you can get back to work." He says, in a voice that clearly states its finality. "I'll be back here tomorrow morning to check in, and don't worry, it's no bother. Rest!" He says, and then he's out the door and into the streets.

My house seems much to quite now that he is gone. I stare at the gray ceiling, and think bitter thoughts for several hours. The sun sets. The purple haze of twilight seeps through my front window, and casts long shadows on the floor. I stew in my injustice.

I may be the "good boy" in my group of friends, but I too have my rebellious streak. I am sick and tired of having the Wolf slow me down and hold me back. I'm going to this meeting, so help me God. I dig my elbows into my couch, and push myself upwards. I stand on shaky legs, and grip the coffee table for support. My chest, my blister veins, they cry out but I swallow their yells of protest.

Slowly, so slowly, I go to my room and dress myself. Slipping into fresh pants and a t-shirt makes my skin groan. I slip my tweed coat over my olive Weird Sisters t-shirt. Not very professional, but it's the lightest shirt I own.

Slowly, so slowly, I make my way into the street. The sky has changed to night, alerting me that I am late to the meeting that I was not invited too. Better late than never, right?

I apparate with a crack like a pistol, and momentarily, I feel like I am bigger than the Wolf.

 _ **Please let me know what you think! I don't think I will continue until I get at least one review. That's not unreasonable, is it?**_

 _ **In addition, would any of you be interested in me writing a one-shot about a "missing piece" from the story so far? Perhaps I could write the scene where Sirius and James try to take Remus to the hospital, but are turned away? Or I could write the scene where Lily receives the photograph Remus sent to her? Please let me know what missing piece scene you would be interested in reading about!**_


	8. Details, Details

Apparating is like being squeezed through a plastic straw. All of your organs and skin and bones are squished together and your brain feels like it's been pancaked by your skull. But then, _pop!_ It's over and you've traveled miles and miles.

I land on the Potters back step and my legs almost give out beneath me. I clutch at my ribs and take haggard breaths.

"Who goes there?" A tense voice whispers through the protective barrier around the door.

"It's Remus." I wheeze. "And I really think I need to sit down."

The door opens a bit more, and there is Peter looking startled. "What the hell are you doing here?" he squeaks.

"Ask me a security question first." I remind him.

"Oh-right-a question." He mumbles. "What's the only book you ever destroyed at the Hogwarts library?"

" _A Brief History of Man-Made Beasts_ by Bethel Snow." I say. "Dreadfully prejudiced book. And it was an accident. I didn't mean to set it on fire."

Peter shakes his head and grabs me by the elbow, pulling me into the warmth of the house. "What are you doing, mate? You should be resting."

"I've been out for six days Wormtail, I've rested enough." I sigh, heading for the kitchen. My ribs are throbbing and I've got an unpleasant feverish feeling, though that's fairly common after a rough moon.

"James and Sirius are going to be _so_ upset with you." Peter calls as he goes back to guard duty.

I walk into the kitchen as confidently as I can. The meeting has not yet begun. I have a few seconds to look around the room before my presence is noticed.

" _Remus John Lupin, I will hex you into oblivion!"_ An angry voice seethes from the table. James is looking at me with an exasperated glare. He marches up to me and pushes me into a chair. "What are you doing here? I gave Sirius explicit instructions to make you stay home."

"Quite frankly, Padfoot is incapable of making me do anything. He passed along your wishes, I just deafly ignored them." I respond, raising an eyebrow.

James looks genuinely upset, with his lips pressed together and his eyes closed behind his glasses. "Why are you here, Moony?" He asks quietly. "There's no shame in resting. Nobody thinks less of you."

I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to register what he just said. "You know damn well that they do." I try to keep the waver out of my voice. "Not everybody is as _forgiving_ of my ailment."

"You don't need to concern yourself with the opinion of others. Your body needs to recover; you shouldn't have left the house." James says pointedly.

"My body will recover as it always does, and I've already left the house so this discussion is going to do very little." I say. I fiddle with the button of my overcoat. "And I care a great deal what the Order thinks of me, as would you if you were in my position. I can't have them thinking I'm weak or unreliable. They need to know that I am dedicated completely to this cause, and that, regardless of my affliction, I am always ready to do my part."

"They don't doubt that!" James says, raising his voice.

"Yes!" I say in a tense voice. " _Yes._ They do doubt that. Maybe my close friends don't, but the rest of the Order? I am on the top of everyone's suspicion list; don't even try to deny it James." I say, ignoring the distressed look on his face. "We can't blame them. Werewolves are notoriously dark, vile creatures. I will always have to do everything I can to debunk those stereotypes and dissolve those presumptions."

James runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs. "Just don't over exert yourself tonight, okay? I want you seated as much as possible. And I'm going to help you apparate home when the meeting is over - _no don't argue with me_."

I give him a weak smile and he rolls his eyes. "You're a real pain in the arse."

There's the creak of floorboards as Sirius walks into the room. "Here Prongs, I've got the notes on- _what in the name of Merlin's sagging left testicle are you doing here?"_

"Good to see you too." I say pleasantly.

Sirius looks at James. "Tell me that that is not Remus Lupin sitting in that chair. Tell me that that stubborn idiot is not right there."

"Sorry Pads," James says, patting Sirius on the back bracingly. "Moony just couldn't stay away."

"You need to go home." Sirius says seriously, glaring at me.

"I already tried to have that conversation; he's not going to budge." James says, chewing at his thumb nail.

"You absolute and utter prick." Sirus sighs, sitting next to me. I smile at him fondly, which pisses him off of course.

Steadily, the kitchen is filled with Order members, each one passing me a glance. I've come to the conclusion that there are only four types of looks a werewolf can receive: Pity, anger, fear, or curiosity. Tonight there's a healthy mixture of all four. I can't blame them; I'm a sorry sight with my sunken eyes and the blister veins sticking out of my flesh like braille letters, and the various bandages binding my flesh.

"Remus." Marlene Mckinnon greets me and sits to my left. "Recovering from that curse alright? Moody told me all about it; sounds like it was a real wicked one. Well, kind of looks like it too."

I laugh. I've always like Marlene's straightforwardness, it makes her an entertaining person to talk to, and a strong dueler. "I'm on the mend." I say quietly.

I look around the cozy kitchen. There's a good mix of Order members tonight, quite a few who I have not yet made the acquaintance of.

I give Sirius a questioning look and gesture my head towards the strangers. He leans towards my ear and whispers. "They're from Kent. Gideon Prewitt's been set up there all week, spreading the word and looking for new members. Looks like he found a couple."

I scan the rest of the room and my eyes land on the gentleman right across from me, Sturgis Podmore. He gives me a disgusted look, and I quickly look away. Marlene seems to have noticed. "Don't mind him" She says. "He's had a broomstick up his ass since the day he was born."

I just nod, and take an interest in a stray thread on my shirt.

"Are you wearing a Weird Sisters t-shirt under your blazer?" Sirius laughs. "That's more my style than yours. Losing your prestigious nature finally." He teases.

"I'd have you know that the Weird Sisters are perfect for any attire, formal or otherwise." I quip in reply.

"Alright, let's get this meeting underway." James says standing up. The various voices filling the room die down. "Lots to cover, lots to cover."

Lily is sitting at James right, and she's glaring at me quite viciously with her blazing green eyes, so actively avoid looking in her general direction. Not one you want to upset, that Lily.

"Firstly, let me introduce a few new faces." James says. "Hyacinth and Jacques Arlington." A couple in their late twenties stand up and wave to the room. Hyacinth is a curvy blonde woman and she's wearing dangly earrings that appear to be bat wings. Jacques is a thin, tall man with a wiry mustache and a tattoo of a sea serpent crawling across his knuckles.

"Mason Riviera." James announces. Mason stands up and waves to the room. He's wearing some kind of scarf-like headband and has dust in his scruffy beard.

"And Padagonia Switt." A young woman with very straight black hair stands up and smiles slightly. She is wearing a red leather jacket, with her wand sticking from a front pocket. As Padagonia sits down, we all applaud the newcomers warmly.

"Tonight's meeting is going to be dedicated to new assignments. After thorough discussion, we feel that we could use some further order in the way we assign tasks. For example, Lily has been on minor duty for over a month, whereas Sirius has been on major response groups the entire time. I've been told by my wife that that is both "sexist and lame" and I have to agree with her." James says. Several people laugh, and Fabian Prewett jokingly nudges Lily's arm.

"There will always be odd jobs and secret missions going on within the Order, but our regularly occurring tasks can be defined as follows: Minor duties, such as guarding or investigating low-threat suspects or situations; Major duties, such a responding directly to attacks, or assisting in a rescue; Espionage duties, such as spying or working undercover; Office duties, such as strategic planning, researching, mapping or filing; and Recruiting duties, which is to go out and search for possible new Order members." As James talks, he passes out pieces of parchment.

"The paper you are receiving now is sort of like you schedule for the week. It will tell you when, where, and what you will be doing. You'll also be able to see if you are working with anyone else, or if you'll be completing your assignment solo. If you have any sort of scheduling question, just ask Sirius or I and we will work with you." James says, all business.

Everyone looks around the room, muttering, discussing, and comparing their schedules. The schedule is written in black ink and in the familiar hurried scrawl I'd recognize anywhere as Sirius's.

My schedule is nearly blank, except for one day. Thursday, noon to whenever the task is completed, Office duties with Mason Riviera. Frustration flickers in my stomach.

"Don't you think my talents may be used better elsewhere?" I hiss at Sirius.

He scratches his head. "In all fairness mate, we weren't sure if you'd be up and ready to do much more." He grabs my schedule and looks at it. "Looks like you'll be working a bit with the new guy though, so that could be interesting."

I shrug, slightly malcontent.

"Everybody listen up!" James calls above the din of the room. "You need to wipe clean the schedule when you aren't reading it, so that, should it fall into hostile hands, you will not endanger yourself or anyone else. Just shake the parchment until all the words fall away." He says, demonstrating. He vigorously shakes the paper, and the words tumble out of sight. I laugh, as I am reminded of a Muggle Etch-A-Sketch. "To see the schedule again, just do the same thing."

He folds his schedule into a paper airplane and chucks it across the room. "On a serious note though," He says gravely. "If you are positive that you are about to be searched or caught, just burn the schedule. We will make you a new one. It isn't worth the risk of the Death Eaters getting hold of that kind of information." He says. There's a couple of grim nods from around the table.

Hyacinth Arlington raises her hand. "I have a question."

"Yeah?" James asks.

"Are these going to be repeating schedules? Because if so, I feel like He Who Must Not Be Named would catch on to the rhythm." She says. Her bat wing earrings swing when she talks.

"And excellent point." James remarks. "There is little to no pattern in the scheduling. The schedules are self-updating, and the folks we have planning out the schedules have specific instructions to have no rhyme or reason to the structure."

Hyacinth nods, and goes back to reading her schedule.

"Alright, if anyone has further questions about the new scheduling system, please come to me or Sirius after the meeting." James says, sitting down. "Now Marlene, you had something to discuss, right?"

"Right." Marlene says standing up. Everyone shifts their gaze from James to Marlene. "I have a message to pass along from Alastor Moody: He has requested that I suggest to anyone working on a Major Duty to read up on primitive dark curses. It appears the Death Eaters have been delving into their ancient roots." Marlene grimaces. "Zachby Blucher was found dead in his home two nights ago with iron protrusions coming from his spine. Moody says that it was an ancient curse called _Medulla Clavious_ and that it hadn't been used in over a hundred years."

Several people around the table shuddered, and I saw Peter gag a little bit.

"Furthermore, Lupin had the blood boiling curse used on him. The results were almost fatal, but he pulled through. However, damage could have been minimized if those on the scene had a further education on primitive dark curses and their counter curses."

I can feel many eyes looking at me. The blister veins sprawling across my face and neck and lacing across my arms are the center of attention. Some of them look at me with pity; but some give me a look that clearly says "you deserve that pain." I swallow hard.

"There are several short handouts on these ancient curses and their counter curses in the living room, if any of you are interested in reading up. I've never been one for studying, but this is something I will definitely make time to read." She says.

As Marlene sits down, Sirius stands up.

"We don't really have any knew intel on You Know Who's location." He confesses. "But we noticed that in the last two weeks, he's been going after people who have passed any kind of discriminating information onto the ministry. If any of you know of anyone who has handed information, names, or even suspicions to a ministry worker, you need to warn them of the impending danger. Our members can provide some protection, but it's best if the people can protect themselves."

"Have you really got no new information You Know Who?" Alice Longbottom asks.

Sirius shakes his head, and I can see his frustration. "None. We've been unsuccessful since our last meeting."

Alice purses her lips but asks no further questions.

"Anyone else?" Sirius asks, scanning the room. Nobody. "Alright, meeting adjourned." He announces.

I'm happy the meeting has come to an end; I am dead on my feet. Though I'm glad to be in the loop and up to date, I long for nothing more than a good cup of chamomile tea and a solid piece of literature. As I get up to go, my knees waver and I almost fall back into my seat.

"I've got you." James mutters in my ear, lightly gripping my elbow.

"Thank you." I whisper back.

We walk onto his porch and he grabs me by the rest. "Side-along apparition. Ever done it before?" He asks.

"Yes, quite a few times with my mother." I say.

There is a bang and then we are being squeezed and pulled and pressed and melded. Then another bang, and we are in front of my flat. This time my knees completely give way from beneath me, and James only narrowly manages to catch me.

He helps me into my home, and helps me slip out of my blazer. "I want you to rest until Thursday." He says seriously. "Take a few days to do nothing but heal; then we can use you again."

I nod as I slip into the kitchen. "You want a cuppa before you go?" I ask.

"I need to head back right away, answer any follow up questions about the schedules. Another time." He assures me, stepping out the door.

"Remus?" He says from the threshold.

I turn to look at him, mug in hand. "Yeah?"

"The Weird Sisters shirt is very classy."

Please Review! I greatly appreciate feedback.


End file.
